Shattered Worlds: A Descent into Madness
by RedFluffyBanana
Summary: Or the day that Wanda Maximoff held the fate of the world in her hands.  House of M ponderings. One use of profanity.


Hi all,

Firstly for or all of you who are reading this who have read my Percy Jackson and Greek Mythology Fanfics - Well I'm really sorry for the completely unacceptable wait between chapters. It has been a very crazy year. (Watch out for an Amnesia, End of the Hunger Games/ Gods update very very soon)

Secondly, this is my first of many Marvel Comic Book One-shots that will gradually be emerging from my dormant writing cave. (failed analogy). So, this is the ponderings of Wanda Maximoff during the House of M event. Apologies for anything non-canon- I have tried really, _really_ hard to avoid inconsistencies.

Characters belong entirely to Marvel..no matter how much I wish it otherwise. Some dialogue also belongs to Marvel. Any reviews and remarks are entirely welcome (and if you spot any mistakes).

Shattered Worlds: A Descent into Madness.

Shattered.

Fractured, scattered remains of what long ago- too long ago- made sense. Reality is unfurling before my eyes and there is nothing, _nothing_, I can do to stop it.

I don't know what _is real_ anymore.

How many times have I witnessed the birth of my two cherished, wonderful children, before holding them close to my chest? Brushed away the soft, downy hair from their eyes. Shed joyous tears and gazed up at my dear husband, knowing that we can finally be happy.

I'm lost…lost in my own created fantasies. Lost in my darkest dreams, my most treasured desires.

I don't know what's real anymore…I'm losing control.

I'm a threat. Too dangerous to be allowed to live. They'll come for me eventually. And when they come, because they _will _come- (Carol and Janet will want to see for themselves, because they, ultimately won't be able to make the right decision. Too many years of friendship to make the hardest choice. Emma Frost, the ruthless pragmatist will be settled on the matter, my life for the sake of the world…. )

I will beg them to kill me.

-...-

Charles Xavier…why won't he let me be happy? He shatters my illusions, the places where I'm finally at peace. My perfect world , a world where my husband and Clint and Scott are still alive. A world free of guilt, where my hands aren't covered in the blood of my friends, my family…..

Everyone is happy. Everyone has their heart's desire.

So why does Xavier force me back? To the very place which brings me pain and guilt and death and prejudice and madness…?

Why can't he let me be happy?

-...-

"Mommy, do you love us?" William asks, his brilliant jade eyes gazing up into my own. Thomas peers up from across the room, interest momentarily lost from the coloured bricks scattered around him.

"Of course I do, sweetheart." I poke his nose playfully.

"Then why are you sad, mommy?" He raises a hand to my cheek, before pulling away to reveal a single glistening tear drop clinging to his fingertip.

"_This isn't real Wanda."_

There's his voice again. The harbinger to my own destruction.

"_This isn't real. You haven't got children. You never could. You never will. You're only hurting yourself by doing this."_

The walls of the nursery are crumbling, disappearing into a black void that is enclosing around me. The rocking horse in the corner, a casket of memories, a grave of lost hours, shatters.

Destroying, fracturing. His voice echoes, the reaper, devouring, taking my life in his truthful words.

William glances around the room and starts to cry. His face crumples, and reddens. Plump tears scramble down his cheeks. Thomas, caught at the edge of the void, tries to pull himself away, but he's too slow, his lower legs start to disintegrate.

My breath hitches in my throat, my heart canters, then stops, stops for a split second.

I clamp my eyelids shut.

"This is real… "My voice defiant, but faint, drowned out by the screams of my disappearing children. My darling children…

"This _is_ real." I clutch my head in my hands. My fingers curl and grasp at strands of my hair. Clutch deeper, clawing into my scalp.

"This is real." I try to make each word the truth. To feel that each word is the truth.

I say it over and over again. Trying to convince myself of something I know is not real, not the truth. My creation. Fantasy.

Not real. Not real. Not real.

I open my eyes.

Thomas is gone. The drapes which swathed the walls in a comfortable, warm embrace are devoured. The hand prints, dotted around the walls, gone. Paintings, and drawings created by the recognisable scrawl of a young child's hand, flawed and yet treasured, so treasured…

I tear my gaze to William, backed into a corner, terrified, eyes darting. I'm frozen, unable to move, unable to protect him from the darkness that will, inevitably, destroy everything.

With a final lurch, William is consumed. His scream is stolen from his lips, wisped away from the very air.

Then I scream. And my world is shattered completely.

And I am left with nothing, nothing but memories. Memories of lies.

-...-

My mind is an open book to him. I hate it. I hate him.

A wraith of my past rears up and says in a tender voice, "He's trying to help you….help you."

The words are spoken through the Vision's lips, my husband's lips, my dead husband's lips. Not real. Not real.

I clasp my fingers tightly together and clamp then down over my ears…a useless attempt at freedom. Xavier strolls into my innermost sanctuary, eyes glaring, dark, menacing in my direction.

"_Enough Wanda…."_

His eyes blaze, and then everything fades to black.

-...-

"…_they're going to kill her!"_

The voice, unmistakeably my brother's, drifts in hazily at first, as the blanket smothering my senses gradually lifts.

Pietro and father are arguing. Arguing about me.

"What would you have me do?"

I open one eye, just in time to see Pietro collapse, and daddy's face shatter. He walks away; leaving my brother's devastated frame crouched in the dirt, bathed in the light of the full moon. He pushes himself up on one arm. I mirror his movements unconsciously.

"You shouldn't yell at him, Pietro." My voice comes out slightly louder than I anticipated; I'm shocked that it sounds so calm.

My brother spins round, and immediately dashes to my side; a blur of cold air that ruffles the bed sheets. He drapes one arm over my shoulder and pulls me closer to him, I breathe in his musky scent and continue, "He doesn't respond well."

I exhale audibly, and lean closer, welcoming the comforting presence of my twin.

"Did you hear?" Always the protector, always putting my feelings before anyone else…including himself.

"Yes. My friends are coming." I try to disguise how terrified I am at the prospect. Who would offer to end my life? Wolverine. No doubt. Everyone else will look away. The recognisable _snikt_, an involuntary gasp, and the deed will be done. "Don't be mad at me, but when they do, I'm not going to fight them."

I couldn't bare to kill another one of my friends. My hands are already stained crimson, scarlet, with their blood. My chest tightens, as I remember. Imagine.

I'm not in control anymore.

"I'll take you from here." His tone is defiant. It's a fragile mask. He places his head on top of mine, cradles me in both arms.

"And they'll follow. No." The words are muffled by his shirt.

"I will fight them _for_ you. I won't let them take you from me again. I won't …I…."

"It's over." Cold, emotionless words. Words that have long ago realised their fate.

"No."

"It should have ended months ago."

I finally realise how Jean must have felt. Trying to fight a power that she knew, inevitably, would once again gain control. I pull away from his embrace, and stare him blankly in the face.

"Am I coward….for not wanting to kill myself? Even though I know I should?"

Pietro turns away. I hear the sobs, see his chest heaving. The tears streaming down his face. I can't bare to see him like this, so I again let him hold me in his arms.

"It'll be over soon. I can already hear Xavier's voice in my head. He's checking on me."

The manufactured calm that washed over me was definitely his work. I just wish I could tell if any of this was real.

Moments of silence pass by, an eternity for Pietro and I. We stare out at the moon that glares at us mutely, shedding its ghostly light over the ruins of Genosha. Pietro's strained words whisper into my ear, "We never had a chance. Magnus chose his "mutant race" over us. We were just little kids, and he abandoned us. Even so…we fought so hard to get out from under it all."

He's leading up to something. There's a distant hope in his eyes, a vitality, that wasn't present in the broken man he had been, kneeling in the dust, dreaming of ways he could save me. He has his answer.

"How was it supposed to be?" I place my hand on his chest, feeling the vibration of his heart. Counting each and every beat.

"We were supposed to be a family."

"Yes."

"We were supposed to be great heroes."

"We were, for a bit." I try to make my tone light-hearted. My voice falters.

"I like being an Avenger. More than I ever said."

"Me too. And look what I did to them. I would do anything to take it back." I've destroyed them. Splintered, _ruined_ the lives of my family. I deserve to die.

Another eternity stretches out before us. Neither wanting to break the silence.

"You could…."

I blink furiously, my head snaps up, "What?"

"You could take it back. You could make …." He struggles, trying to put his feelings into words, "…_everyone_ happy." He curls his fingers into a tight fist. Trembling.

"I can't control it." I rest my head on his shoulder, eyelids once again feeling heavy. Xavier is registering my thoughts, tempering my emotions.

"What if I was there to help you? You _and_ I together. Xavier's mind _inside_ you, your powers as they are now. You can use _his_ powers and _yours_ together. Really ….there's nothing you _can't_ do. "

He whips round to face me. His eyes blazing, urging me to agree to his plan. The eyes of a madman engulfed in his wild fantasy. "In an instant….in an _instant_ not only could we have what we deserve…you could_ give_ it to our friends as well. Father could be given everything he dreamed of. We can finally be a family. They'd all be happy. They wouldn't _bother_ us anymore."

I try to find the slightest hint in his gaze to tell me he's joking. He couldn't possibly be suggesting….he couldn't…..

"Pietro, I can't…"

Eyes bulging, he places his arms either side of me, "We became...the reason we became Avengers was to try to change things ...for the better. You _can_ change things. For the better. Permanently. Without fighting. Right now. You can make anyone you've ever loved happy."

I start to shake my head, slowly, trying to deny his words, trying to deny that he might be, ever so slightly…._right_.

"Why would you be given all this power if _not_ for this reason? It might be that this is what you're _supposed_ to do." He fastens his hands over my shoulders, his grip tight…too tight. I'm scared. I've never seen Pietro like this. I'm too stunned to speak. The slightest of a whimper escapes my lips.

"And if you don't…Wanda….if you don't, they'll _kill_ you. And we'll _never_ be together ever again."

His words linger in the air. Echo around Genosha. The land of my father's failed legacy. My father's dream.

Silence.

I nod my head.

-...-

I can feel Xavier trying to take control. But now I have embraced the idea, the idea to change _everything_, his attempts seem pathetic. He's panicking as I wrap my energy around his presence, holding it in place. He tries to escape. Impossible.

I enter his mind, searching for my friends in the vast catacombs of my prisoner's psyche. Expand and mould it to include everything I can find into my reality.

Carol appears in all her forms simultaneously, Binary, Warbird, Ms Marvel…an ever shifting collage. Ever out shadowed by her teammates. Never given the opportunity to_ shine_.

Logan, tormented by his forgotten past, his forgotten memories. Amnesia defines him.

Simon, unwilling, doubting his choice to become an Avenger. He wants to be free of the pressures of his position.

Raven and Kurt dreaming to be accepted. Peter, he who, even now, is filled with guilt. He who wants to undue his past. Live in it.

Scott, wanting to be free of his failures. Free of self-hatred and blame.

Steve. Jessica. Luke. Allison. Kitty. Pietr. Tony. Remy. Lorna. Emma. Hank. Ororo. Steven. Jennifer. Janet.

Father. Pietro.

Everyone of my friends…my family.

Each filled with their own impossible desires. Things they want to change. Things they know they can't change.

But I can.

My power sings inside of me, a glorious melody, bursting to be let free. Wisps of vermillion energy shimmer and play along my skin. Pietro steps back.

I can see my reflection in his eyes. The effect is beautiful. Light pools into my eye sockets, spreads, clings to the fabric of my clothes.

Everything has been set in motion.

I see the world as if from above. See everything. Iridescent ribbons that weave together. Blocks that, at my whim, I can alter. Rebuild to my desires.

An intricately complex web of interlocking fates. Interlocking lives.

It is glorious. Finally conceding to my power….. and yet, I know this is wrong. I shouldn't be doing this, rewriting everything. What right do I have….?

I wave my hand, feeling the air shift, grow heavier. The ground quakes. Gravity weakens, no longer holding its sway over the landscape. My hair drifts into a halo round my head.

And then, as the tension reaches an almost unbearable state, everything transforms. Everything changes.

I stand on the precipice of a new world. A shining acropolis that rises up to greet the sun, and towers over the cityscape below. Glistening pavilions, shining beacons of hope.

It is beautiful.

Mutants, no longer persecuted, _hated_ for being who they are, fill the streets and the air. Children play in the streets, using their gifts, knowing they won't be hunted or scorned.

Huge billboards, proudly displaying the faces of my friends loom over Manhattan. Helicarriars and Sentinels, no longer the symbol of oppression but of freedom and protection, fly in formation, too vast in number to count.

Everything my father ever dreamed of and more. The House of Magnus. Pietro and Lorna stand by his side. And by theirs, every mutant who has ever dreamed of acceptance. A brotherhood the likes of which the world will ever see.

I turn my head away as the last piece falls into place.

William and Thomas rush up to me, fling their arms around my neck, bury their faces in my hair.

A tear falls down my cheek.

My own dream has become a reality.

-...-

I place another block onto the mini- skyscraper William has built. He scrambles for another. Joy etched into every feature of his expression. Thomas starts to lay the foundations for its twin.

We continue like this for seconds, minutes , hours. Occupying the endless amount of time at our disposal.

The ever so subtle change in the atmosphere heralds that we are no longer alone.

"Doctor Strange." As I speak his name he appears in a manifestation of ethereal energy, seemingly unstable as it shifts between dimensions. Tentacles of purple light drift through the air and merge with their partners. A volatile form.

"Wanda. You look well." He hasn't aged since I last saw him. His hair is still streaked with grey, his eyes still vibrant, exuding a fierce warmth and intelligence that I always found comforting.

"You look vibrant, like you're in your….what are you in? The Astral Plane?" I put another block into position, a column of support for the structure that my children are building.

"Yes." He glides closer, "How are you? I was scared we lost you." Genuine concern laces his words.

"Why?"

"Your body seemed to fall apart down there."

"Oh, that wasn't my body. I don't leave the children alone. That body is something for my father to show off on occasion."

"Mommy plays with us." Thomas's voice chirps up by my elbow.

"Should I create another one? Did I upset anyone?" I glance over my shoulder at the doctor, watching as he floats down to my side.

"May I play too?"

"Of course. It _is_ good to see you again. I miss our talks." I lean back, letting my sons create what they want.

"You remember me?" What a strange question to ask…

"Remember you? You were there at the birth of my children." How could he forget? "How did you find yourself here in Genosha, Doctor?"

His brow furrows, "You brought us here, Wanda." His eyes focus on my face. I make an effort not to meet his gaze.

"I did?"

"You created young Layla Miller to bring us here."

I look at him blankly, "I don't know who that is." And I don't.

He sighs, "No. I guess you wouldn't. You've created so _much_ lately."

William reaches up, building his tower higher and higher. It wobbles slightly, before regaining its balance. He smiles, satisfied with his work, "That's what mommies do." He looks up at me, seeking praise.

I stroke his cheek with my thumb, "That's what mommies do."

The Doctor's face hardens, taking on a severe intensity, " Did you create your father as well? I'd heard rumours of his death last year, and his somewhat puzzling rebirth before all this became….what it became. I wonder was that you as well? How long have you been playing with this world?"

Annoyance momentarily clouds my vision. It passes as quickly as it came. I inhale slowly, before answering, "You _are_ full of questions. I can't say I fully understand them."

William is getting angry, the previously happy atmosphere has been tainted by this strange man's presence. " Play time isn't talk time." His tongue stumbles over the "isn't", emphasising his slight lisp.

"My apologies, young prince. I do have many questions. But there's little time for that _now_."

My eyes narrow, "Why? We have all the time in the world."

"I'm concerned for our friend's safety." He states bluntly. His declaration brings me up short.

"I'm sorry?"

He flicks his wrist at the wall he emerged from, " Our friends are fighting. Over you. Over your Father. _Right outside…."_ He punctuates the words with something close to desperation. Trying to make me understand.

I turn my head, following his gesture, "Outside?"

I make the wall rip itself apart, so as to see the chaos that hides behind it. It obeys my will. It deteriorates…. It breaks into individual blocks that fade and float into non-existence. The cold air rushes in, a foreboding chill that whispers of the destruction outside.

Lightning gathers overhead, strikes down at the earth, a ferocious display. No doubt Ororo's doing. The citadel lies in ruins. Explosions wrack the ground, sending debris scattering over the landscape. As I watch a sphere of energy erupts from the centre, sending a shockwave that manages to ruffle my hair, even from this vast distance.

I wordlessly make the wall reform, and then turn my attention back to my children, who seem to be oblivious to my actions.

"_Tsk._ No one should be fighting."

Thomas cups my cheek in his small hand, "Are you sad, Mommy?" Tears well up in his eyes. His bottom lip trembles.

I place a thumb on his chin, tilting his head closer to mine, "Well, Sweety, the purpose of all this was that there would be no more fighting. But no matter what I do…there's _always_ fighting. I don't understand people, I really don't."

He drops his hand. A single tear falls from his eye, scatters down his face, "He said…we could all be happy."

"Wanda? How did your father do this? Where's Charles Xavier?"

"He just wanted me to be happy. He wanted all of us to be happy."

"Is that what Magneto said?"

I need to show him. I need to show him the truth, instead of him dispensing hatred onto those who are completely innocent.

The walls shatter and swirl around us. Like planets in orbit, revolving in a celestial dance.

Now it's just the doctor and I, surrounded by the infinitely complex ribbons of reality.

"…._they are going to _kill _her."_

Pietro's voice echoes in the abyss as I show the Doctor everything that occurred. Father's mask, no longer strengthened behind the shroud of unconsciousness, is weak. His fists are clenched at his sides, tendons white, straining from the intensity of his inner anguish.

The Doctor looks on mutely. Observing in a dignified silence.

When the scene comes to a close, Pietro gripping my shoulder, glaring down at me….. the Doctor manages to stutter out three words;;

"It wasn't Magneto."

He stares blankly, then he manages three more, "It was Pietro." He floats away from me, face frozen in an expression of disbelief.

"You're making Mommy sad." Thomas stands up, he's unsteady on his feet. Always has been. He looks at the Doctor. Accusation written all over his face. I cradle William in my arms.

Out of my peripherals, I see the Doctor close his eyes.

A second, and then, "Wanda, where is Charles…?"

I don't get a chance to answer. It all happens so quickly. He's always been able to surprise me.

A taut twang of a bow, the thud of an arrow as it penetrates skin, muscle, bone. I collapse face first.

Cold.

The tiny voice of one of my sons…(Thomas, William?)…. Reaches me through the enclosing darkness, "Mommy?"

They sound so far away…

I look up, ignoring the sharp, excruciating pain that is piercing into my abdomen. Look up straight into the eyes of a dear, dead friend.

It all comes flooding back. I suddenly realise that this is not real. But, I want it to be. It can be real.

"Clint Barton. Why did you do that?" I push myself up, searching for the power to dispel the arrow from my body. It disintegrates almost immediately; the wound healed. No evidence that one of my best friends had just shot me, quite literally, in the back.

"Why? You're asking me why?" He barely manages to say the words through his clenched teeth.

I flinch.

"Are you mad at me?" Thomas and William rush to my side, flinging their small arms around my waist.

"Hawkeye, now's not the time to….." The Doctor can feel the growing tension in the air, he knows that with just a wave of my hand I could end them both. It's a realisation that doesn't help the situation. Why can't they just kill me?

Clint is pacing, kicking any toy blocks in his path. He stops, and whirls round to face me, "Am I "mad" at you? For killing me, you mean? Mad, just doesn't seem to cover it. But if I was hoping if I couldn't kill you for all the shit you've done…." He pauses to slam his fist into the nearest wall.

Does he know I didn't mean to kill him? How can he possibly understand the agony his death caused me….? That's why I brought him back!

"…I thought at least maybe I'd snap you out of your crazy!" He knocks another arrow into his bow, pulls the string. Who is he aiming at? Who is he going to try and kill next? "We were friends, Wanda. Teammates. I truly loved. I'd kill _for_ you."

He's crying now. Torn between his feelings. To kill me or love me?

"I love you too." My voice sounds dead. Is dead.

"Then why did you kill me? Why did you do this?" He roars at me. Each word is like a dagger aimed directly at my heart. Each one hits. Bulls-eye.

"I brought you back." My words cause him to snap. Part of me doesn't care.

Several things happen simultaneously.

Faster than thought, the arrow is released. Clint lowers his head. "You don't know what you've done."

William screams, "Shut up!" He doesn't understand what his happening….he can't understand what is happening. My gaze focuses on my children, flicks to the arrow, to Clint's face.

I don't realise what I've done until it's too late.

And Clint is no more. I've killed him again. His body explodes into shards that scatter on a non-existent breeze.

The arrow disintegrates in mid-flight. It's destructive journey brought to an abrupt end. He wasn't aiming at me…

I hadn't planned to kill him. I hadn't meant to. Just a thought that occupied my brain for the smallest portion of a second. It didn't matter.

I'm not in control of my powers.

I'm unstable.

A threat to everything.

I can't be allowed to live. Not after this.

I stutter, trip over my words. Nothing could describe my thoughts, "I…..I…."

"Wanda?" The Doctor turns around slowly.

My children huddle against me. Frightened. But I'm the monster. I'm a threat to them. "Mommy!"

"I - I didn't mean that." Vacant eyes that echo a vacant voice. My eyes blank, unseeing,

"Don't be sad, Mommy." They grasp hold of my dress, clenching it in their small fists. Pull me towards them. Urging me to protect them.

"He was so mad at me. I was…I needed to protect my children. The children have to be…" I can't stop the words from escaping. I'm sprinting down an all too familiar path.

I'm having a breakdown…..I'm losing my mind.

"Wanda, listen to me…" The desperate man is back, trying to gain control.

I wrap my arms around my children, holding them close, trying to stop my body from tearing itself apart. "I- I can't control any of it." Tremulous and quavering words spoken through fragile lips. Everything about me is screaming, _unstable, dangerous, unbalanced, insane._

I'm crying. Nothing I have done has helped. Pietro was wrong. Nothing can stop what must be done.

I must die for the world to live.

Silent tears drop down my face.

I sit, rocking my children rhythmically, hearing the screams from outside of the walls. A harmony to my own twisted thoughts.

Time stops. My hand on William's back. A single tear hangs suspended in the air. My heart, pauses mid-beat. Everything goes quiet.

I don't know what's happened. Can only feel that something terrible…..too terrible to think about has occurred. Time starts again, but now I'm not in the nursery. I'm hovering over the battlefield. The ruins of Genosha, the way they once were. My dress thrashes against the wind. My hair falls in a cascade down my back. My scarlet aura has returned, resurrected by my will.

And then I see him. Crumpled, destroyed, broken on the floor. Spread-eagled.

"Brother."

Chest tight, heartbeat deafening in my ears. The drum of a marching army of thousands. I walk on the air, lower, lower. My bare feet are cold in the chill of the winter night, as the breeze caresses them gently. As if in consolation of my loss.

I see father. I hold him in place with my power. Hung and bound over his damaged creation. He tries to talk, "Wanda, you shall…."

I take away his mouth. I don't want to hear his fake words. His reprimands, his lectures. He has done this. And I hate him for it.

I land on the dusty ground. Kneel over the remains. My hair veils my face. Blood is pooling around him, staining his shirt, clinging to his skin. I act without thinking. Instinct.

My hand hovers above his face, glowing, engulfing him in my energy. I will him to be brought back to life.

He gasps, his eyelids snap open. He sits upright, then embraces me in his strong, warm arms.

I meet his gaze. A thousand memories and thoughts pass between us.

I see father struggling against my power. Pathetic. I shake my head. Something in me snaps.

It's finally happening.

My mind reels. The words tumble and trip off my tongue, faster and faster.

"He only wanted us to be happy."

I stroke a strand of Pietro's platinum hair behind his ear, my fingertips brush against his almost feverish skin. Goosebumps.

"Look what you've done to us, daddy. Pietro was right- you – you _ruined_ us before we even had a chance. Why would you treat your children this way? Babies. Why?"

Anger erupts inside of me, rushes up my throat, fuelling, enticing the words which are now cascading from my lips.

"Because you actually _think_ you're _better_ than everyone else. The _arrogance_ of you. You think because we're mutants we're _better_ than them. That we deserve to rule."

His eyes, glacial, forever _cold _andemotionless, widen. He's scared of me...of what I can do to him in an instant. What I could turn him into.

Good.

He's trapped, and completely at my mercy.

"That's what you wanted and I _gave_ it to you. But look…look what it _becomes_."

My temper rises, invigorated by the sheer agony of the truth. "Even when you get what you want, you're still this horrible man. We're not the next step. We're not gods."

I incline my head, utter fury rendering me near speechless. I blurt out the words which have haunted me for as long as I can remember; "We're freaks!"

"Look at us, daddy! We're _freaks_! _Mutants_!" The word tastes wrong on my tongue. Disgusting. The image has been destroyed, only the grotesque truth remains.

Then everything changes.

The rage, a fiery tempest, is consumed almost instantly. It no longer blurs my vision with the hot tears that stream down my face, or wracks my body as it claws and destroys my reason. The answer appears in a glorious epiphany, purging all other emotion as my voice continues on, deadpan and devoid of the passion that had defined it moments ago.

"Daddy…"

An overwhelming sadness clutches my heart in an unbreakable grasp. I raise my head. Meet the gaze of my friends as they stand there, unsure of what to do.

"Oh no….." Emma Frost, the_ telepath,_ has been scanning my mind, reading it. Her callous presence dispels the apprehension that accompanies the sadness. It's ardent companion.

"…no more mutants."

I close my eyes as the screaming begins. In the end this "perfect world" was a fragile imitation. It is destroyed in an instant by three small words.

I Imagine and fantasise. Dream of Vision's touch upon my shoulder, his warm eyes focused entirely on my own. Thomas and William playing in the corner. Happy.

My eyelids burn as the light intensifies behind them. The ground shifts and groans as the world, this reality, is obliterated.

I smile as it fractures, frayed ends that are unravelling and ripping. And then with a final lurch…..

My creation shatters.

-...-


End file.
